


Destined to Fall

by alfie_bet



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: (non)canon-compliant, Angst, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Mentions of Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 09:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alfie_bet/pseuds/alfie_bet
Summary: He first remembered seeing the long-haired servant after the Hetairoi’s defeat of the Assassins. Yet, the long-haired servant, with dark olive eyes and fair skin, seemed like a new addition that he couldn’t put his finger on.Iskandar visits his army during the Holy Grail War, finding companionship in an unfamiliar face.





	Destined to Fall

In hindsight, he first remembered seeing the long-haired servant after the Hetairoi’s defeat of the Assassins. In his dreams, ones where even the boy couldn’t see him, he could see his army. His comrades. Friends. Yet, the long-haired servant, with dark olive eyes and fair skin, seemed like a new addition that he couldn’t put his finger on. 

In his dream, the spirit approached the King of Conquerors, sitting beside him in his camp. The other soldiers around him didn’t bat an eye, so it had to be assumed that this man had been part of his ranks for a while. 

Yet, a name escaped the king. When was the last time that he had forgotten a name? As a statesman, this could be seen as a high offense, yet the figure beside him seemed unbothered by the lack of familiarity. The king spoke first, his apprehension masked by his easy-going laughter.

“I don’t recall a beauty like you joining my Hetairoi—”

“Oh? I don’t think you’ve formally asked me yet.”

Ah, that’s right. In this, his army, the world within his heart, time wasn’t a factor. The men that were here represented his past and his future. Every person that had ever sworn their loyalty, their true unwavering will, would be here. They would always be here. It should come as no surprise, then, that this man was someone he could trust. The lack of name, however, was something that bothered him.

“Still, you have fought beside me and my men, yet I can’t think of your name,” he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. 

The man beside him nodded, humming softly while he thought of his response, “...I’m sorry, my king, but I cannot give you my name just yet. I hope that this doesn’t offend you.” Dark green stared up into red, gaze unyielding. He bore no animosity toward his king, but his jaw was set firmly—if Iskandar truly wanted this information, he could demand it, but doing so would likely disappoint the man before him.

After a moment, the king nodded, “Let it be, then. I suppose I’ll know what to call you when the time is right.”

His companion’s gaze softened, smile playing at his lips, and Iskandar knew that he was destined to fall for this man.

* * *

The boy seemed to notice the change in behavior nearly immediately. Perhaps it was the lack of noise, or the fact that he was staying in spirit form of his own volition—something had clearly unnerved the little mage. The boy had sat himself down in front of Iskandar, scowl heavy.

“Alright, what’s with the sudden change?”

“Hm? I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“I’m not stupid, idiot. Something happened and you’ve been acting weird.”

Idly, Iskandar wondered when it had happened that someone could call him an ‘idiot’ and get away with it. He couldn’t exactly put the boy in his place, although he sorely wanted to. Why, once he had gotten into it with a classmate as a boy, the two of them knocking straight into—

“Hey! I’m still talking, are you even listening?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, still listening,” it was clear he wasn’t, given the airy, distant tone in his voice. The boy huffed, crossing his arms—clearly, something that bothered him was the loss of attention from others. On that, he could most certainly relate. Still, the boy seemed to have lost his steam, standing up.

“...whatever. Just, don’t let it get in the way.”

“I can assure you, boy, nothing will stand in the way of our conquest!”

* * *

“—And then, the boy has the nerve to call me an idiot!” Iskandar’s laugh boomed throughout the camp, earning the roaring laughter of his men. Well, all except for one. The dark-haired stranger was sitting off to the side, smiling into his cup, eyes closed as if he were thinking of something else. 

In other words, he wasn’t paying attention. That simply wouldn’t do. As the laughter died down, the men regaling each other with their own tales, the king sat beside his companion.

“Do I bore you tonight, stranger?”

The man glanced up, eyes widening slightly, before he shook his head. “No, my king, you could never bore me. I think I was just...lost for a moment.”

Iskandar nodded, humming, “...if it eases you, I wouldn’t mind another story before I go.”

“I doubt that tales of my own life would even hold a candle to the grandeur of yours.”

The king paused, frowning, “When have I ever given off the impression that the stories of my friends bore me? We are comrades in arms, my life is yours and yours is mine. If something bothers you, then bare it for me and I will shoulder it.”

His companion opened his mouth to speak, closing it momentarily as if trying to choose his woords carefully, “...it’s a girl that I once cared for. I wonder, sometimes...whatever became of her,” he sighed, bringing his fingers to his lips. Iskandar had noticed him doing this same thing before—he wondered if it had been some sort of habit that his companion carried from life.

“...it’s silly, I know. She was strong and capable, so I’m sure she turned out alright. But I would have liked to see it happen, you know?” His companion turned to him, eyes vaguely misty with something that seemed suspiciously close to regret. “...my students, too. I wonder, what kind of mages did they become? Did their names remain unsullied, or did they fall to their vices?”

Ah, so that was the kind of man his companion was. A scholar. That would explain his slight build, the fair complexion of his skin. Clearly, this man was built for strategy, not for battle.

“A teacher are you? Well, I am certain that any student of yours went on to shine brightly. Rest your fears,” he clapped the other man on the shoulder, earning a surprised squeak from him. The scholar rubbed the sore spot, sighing.

“You...thank you. But, go on. You all were in the middle of merrymaking, I don’t want to take you away from that—”

The king stood, extending his hand, “No. In this army, we all celebrate and laugh together. Come, join us. Shouldn’t you know this all by now?”

The scholar chuckled to himself, looking up at his king, “...I do know this, but I love hearing it come from you.”

Iskandar could only marvel at how slender, but perfect, his hand was, and how well it fit in his own.

* * *

“...I have a question,” the boy asked, sitting on the bed. Iskandar grunted, reluctantly turning his head to give the little mage his full attention when the boy didn’t continue.

“Yes, boy, what is it?”

“...in the book, it mentioned your, erm...lovers. Did you really sleep with men?”

The king blinked, a little perplexed by the question, “Of course. Men and women, both. Why do you ask?” 

The boy fidgeted with the book, gaze downcast, “...nothing, just wanted to make sure.”

Perhaps it had been his recent luck, but Iskandar was finding that some of the most intriguing people he had in his life at the moment were masters of not making eye contact. The king stood, television forgotten, and made his way to the bed. 

“Speak your mind, boy. What is it?”

The boy mumbled something quickly, face slowly turning red. Under normal circumstances, the king wouldn’t be bothered by the boy’s lack of clarity, but the events of the day prior had taken their toll on his patience. Iskandar reached over to pull the boy closer, lining their gazes up. 

“Come on, boy, speak up-”

“I want to exchange mana!”

The king’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find words. “Boy, that’s…”

“I know. But...after all of that energy you used against Caster and that monster, I—I want to do something to help. I’m your master, I need to pull my own weight. So, just...let me do this. For you.”

His master had moved closer, pressing himself against the king, inexperience and determination driving his actions. The king knew that pushing him away wasn’t going to help anyone and it would likely only wound the boy’s ego. He yielded to the touches, opening his mouth at the press of lips to his own.

* * *

In the end, the mana transfer hadn’t been enough to sustain him, and Iskandar had decided to go back to his men while the boy rested out in the woods. He opened his eyes in his tent, stretching lazily. The sounds of his men outside finally led him to walk out, soldiers bowing to their king as he walked.

He couldn’t say for certain why he wanted to search for the scholar. Perhaps, in light of his recent intimacy, he wanted to seek out someone to talk to. The boy hadn’t been much for bed company, opting to curl into himself after they had finished. Iskandar couldn’t tell for certain whether it had been from shame or from exhaustion, but he hadn’t wanted to press him.

The scholar looked up from his books, his expression almost...amused. Did he know before he had even said something? The scholar must indeed be a powerful mage, if his perception was that sharp.

“I see you had a good evening, my king.”

To cut to it so quick, Iskandar could honestly feel the creeping of blush up his neck. He coughed, giving the scholar a sidelong look as he sat down, “And? What of it?”

“Mm, nothing, I was merely making an observation.”

“Perhaps you should keep such brazen observations to yourself—” he grumbled, looking forward. A small laugh brought his gaze back to the scholar, the other man looking surprisingly at ease.

“But, my king, if no one makes these observations for you, what would I have left to do?” He laughed again, trying to restrain himself. Iskandar found himself baffled by this man’s absolute confidence.

He wondered how many more times he’d be able to witness it.

* * *

Ever since their initial mana transfer, Iskandar had noticed that the boy had changed. Not too much, he certainly hadn’t grown any taller or gotten any stronger. What had changed, the king mused, was the bond between them. The boy didn’t fight as much with him anymore, and even opted to sit closer to him while they rested.

They both were aware of the end of the war fast approaching, and while they both believed that victory could be obtained, their confidence couldn’t stop the anticipation that bubbled through their connection. 

This last night, the boy clung to him, letting him leisurely kiss his neck and chest. They weren’t even exchanging mana at this point—when had it become more than that? The king was too old for things like this, but this could very well be his last night on Earth, and he wanted to savor it.

He was selfish, he supposed, but he wanted to leave himself on the boy, have his memory linger in the world for as long as it could before it, too, faded.

* * *

“...tomorrow is the end of the Holy Grail War,” the scholar spoke softly. It seemed fitting that night had fallen on his camp, the innumerable stars shining far overhead. The king nodded solemnly, staring up at the sky. How many times had he taken the chance to actually look at the sky? It had always been there, hanging right above his head, but he’d always had his gaze fixed to the horizon, toward an ocean that had never existed. 

“...it is, isn’t it? What do you think, scholar? Will we be victorious?” He attempted to smile in that easy, confident way of his. His companion’s grip on his drink tightened slightly as he, too, kept his gaze pointed to the sky.

“I think...what will be will be. We will fight for you, my king, always.”

The scholar’s eyes tore away from the heavens to look at his king, eyes shimmering in the low light of the torches. The scholar tried to smile, to keep the mood light, but a tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another.

Iskandar knew that this wasn’t fear. This was resignation. In a way, its own bittersweet farewell. He reached out to brush a tear off of the scholar’s cheek, his companion resting his cheek into his hand.

Whatever happened, he had done something with his time. It felt like enough. He wanted it to be enough.

* * *

What was the grail, anyway? Was it an actual physical cup? Was it a concept? Or was it just Fate playing a cruel game with lives that had already run their course?

He could only watch as the King of Heroes’ power crumbled his world into dust, his soldiers falling into an abyss of nothingness. He couldn’t make out faces, but every soldier, every weapon, every grain of sand, every cloud in the sky, everything crumbled.

He was left on a bridge in the middle of a sleeping city, facing a god. 

The boy was trembling, he could feel it. Even when his master had given up his command seals, given up his right to be by the King of Conquerors’ side, the king couldn’t find it in himself to leave him behind. And now, at the end, he couldn’t think of going on without asking him the same question he had asked all of the members of his army. His comrades. His friends. 

The ones that had been shattered into nothingness only moments ago.

He asked Waver to be his follower. It had been a simple request, but the young man had accepted and pledged his loyalty through his tears without a moment’s hesitation. The king couldn’t be more proud, and he thought he could see the shadow of the man his master would become. Determined, wiser, ready to take on anything the world had to offer—he wanted these things, everything, for Waver, but he knew that his time to give it had passed.

The King of Conquerors raised his sword, charging forward toward the horizon.

* * *

He had expected to wake to nothingness. He had failed his second chance, after all, so wouldn’t that be fitting? Instead, warm air blew in from a flap in the tent wall, bringing with it the scent of cooking food, music from somewhere, and the chattering of his army.

His army. 

The king quickly rose to his feet, marching out of the tent. He was met with the relieved faces of his men, all of them not in the least resentful of their recent loss. The fact that their king was back among them was cause enough for cheer. The king looked out at his men, and he saw him. The dark haired scholar, staying back and out of the way of the soldiers and their revelry. Their gazes met, the king making his way through the parting crowd to him.

He had finally remembered his name.

Iskandar’s hands cupped the sides of the smiling scholar’s face, brushing strands of dark hair away, “...you know something, I think I would remember a beauty like you being in my Hetairoi.”

Waver laughed, resting his hand over one of Iskandar’s, “Well, you did ask me, after all.”

“That I did,” he smiled, sighing, “To think, you had me fooled this entire time-”

“Well, it took you long enough to figure it out, idiot,” he smiled, leaning up to close the distance between them.

  
Oceanos may not rest beyond the horizon, and his next conquest was uncertain, but Iskandar, King of Conquerors, found that the entire world rested quite comfortably in his arms.


End file.
